Sons of the Sea
by Amiyuu
Summary: One was a pirate lord, the other, the grim reaper. Cursed to years apart for a night to remember. It was never enough, but it would suffice until next time. Akakuro, ONESHOT, Fluff...ish?


**Because there needs to be more pirate!akashis in the world. Also because this ship is sinking and I need a bit of fluff to keep me going.**

 **Enjoy, and let me know what you think!**

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Rumours followed him like a hungry pack of wolves. They watched him from afar, waiting for him to trip over himself - waiting for when it was time to strike.

In the shadows, whispered words of his misdeeds spread like wildfire. Those who shared the seas with him knew to steer clear.

"They say he's Davy Jones's bastard," one claimed drunkenly to an audience of wide-eyed sailors and barmaids. "He's got a golden eye beneath that eyepatch that sees into the future."

"No, no," another interjected. "the sea goddess fell in love with him - that's what it was."

"Don't be daft," the man in the corner said with a snort. "He stole the ship with an army of dead men and killed all's 'em who refused to serve 'im."

"They says tha' eye he hides was from a cyclops he killed."

" _I_ heard that he stole Davy Jones' heart and makes the flying dutchman do his bidding."

"Well I heard that he _was_ Davy Jones!"

"They says he's never stepped foot on land before," a voice in the back of the tavern cooed. "He just came out of the sea with his ship."

"Tha's 'cause he's Davy Jones," someone announced loftily. There was a general murmur of consensus. It made sense to a sailor, and that was all a sailor needed.

xx

It was a soundless night. The fog rolled in from out of nowhere, blanketing their world in shadows and apprehension.

Out on the sea, just out of reach of the fog, a ship bobbed, its dark masts a sharp contrast against the moon. The soft sound of waves crashing against its hull masked the snores of the men on board - and the quiet thud of footsteps. The moon was full tonight, and shone brightly through the cracks in the wood overhead to illuminate the sleeping faces of the crew.

In the captain's cabin at the bow of the ship, there was a sliver of unnatural light leaking through the keyhole. A shadow moved closer to the orange glow peeping through the door.

The flame atop the candle flickered slightly.

Akashi straightened from the map he had been studying.

"I believe that it is common courtesy to knock before entering," he said, as he turned around.

"I didn't want to wake your crew," Kuroko replied flatly. He stepped away from the door, moving closer to the large windows at the other end of the room.

"I highly doubt that that would wake them," Akashi said amusedly. "I made sure to work them hard today."

Kuroko gave him a bland stare. "How many ships did you sink today?"

The redhead shrugged nonchalantly. "Shouldn't you know?"

Heaving a great sigh, the blue-eyed man shifted his gaze out the window. In the distance, there was a large shape that seemed to be watching him expectantly.

"Tetsuya," the said man turned his eyes once again to Akashi's. He had gotten closer, and was holding out a hand. "We have tonight."

Kuroko searched the face of the man before him. His famed eyepatch was lying somewhere on the desk, so Kuroko was treated to the full force of Akashi's heterochromatic gaze. It was an unnerving experience for most, but Kuroko had grown to cherish it. Akashi's eyes were unique, and few people were ever privileged enough to see how beautiful they were as a pair.

It had been months, years. The face before him had more lines - there was a new scar along his jawline. Kuroko reached out a pale hand to touch it lightly.

The things they had missed. His own face was different, he knew. Not older, but darker. The dead haunted him, and it showed in his eyes.

Akashi reached up to clasp his hand before he could withdraw it. Gently, he pulled the pale-skinned man unresistingly toward the bed, blowing out the lone candle along the way. It did little to change things. The light of the moon shone through the windows, bathing the cabin in an almost eerie glow.

Kuroko reached out and wrapped his fingers around Akashi's arm, tugging him along as he fell back onto the mass of carpets and blankets that made up the captain's bed.

That touch was the first of many. It was familiar, igniting old memories, bringing them to mind like they happened just a day ago. Hands strayed over invisible trails that they had mapped years ago. They leaned into each other simultaneously, as Akashi's breath fluttered over Kuroko's ear, and the latter's lips found the edge of Akashi's jaw.

The days between them melted away, carried away with the waves below.

xx

The sun was but a thin red line over the horizon when he woke. Struggling through the layer of sleep, he cranked open a golden eye to stare balefully at the pale back of the man who had woken him up. He was a light sleeper - there was no knowing when someone would try to stab him in the heart - and the rustle of Kuroko slipping out of bed had been enough to alert him.

Kuroko had found his pants and was attempting to locate the shirt that Akashi had haphazardly flung into a corner of the cabin. Akashi rolled onto his back, stretching languidly, and watched idly as Kuroko continued to look for the elusive garment.

"It's still rather early, don't you think?" He asked. Kuroko looked up from where he was crouched on the floor to check under the desk.

"The sun is up," he replied simply. "We have a job to do."

Akashi dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. "Dead men can wait."

"You know the rules." The blue-haired man shook his head and sighed. He cast his eye around the cabin one more time in search for his shirt. "At least I don't have to wait ten years to see you."

"I'd rather we not have to wait any time at all," Akashi murmured. The sun was climbing steadily higher in the sky. He had spotted the end of the shirt peeking over one of the trunks at the foot of the bed. Instead of pointing it out, he kept his dichromatic eyes on his lover, remembering the angles and edges that he had reacquainted himself with last night.

Like Akashi, Kuroko had a relatively new scar. The redhead had seen it before, but it was always a surprise - the thin, dark line that snaked over the otherwise unmarred chest was a permanent reminder of why Kuroko never stayed. It was not enough to know that he never wanted to leave.

When Kuroko finally located his shirt, he lifted it triumphantly, spun around - and nearly collided into Akashi. Unperturbed, the redhead raised a hand, tracing the line on Kuroko's chest with a finger.

Kuroko locked eyes with Akashi with a small smile.

It was a deep-rooted fear of his that he would one day board the wreckage of a ship to find those eyes waiting for him; for him to take him where the living had no place. All men died, eventually. It made the reality of their circumstances hard to ignore.

But that day was far off - or, at least, that was what he told himself.

Covering the redhead's hand with his own, he spread their fingers over the centre of his chest. "You have my heart."

Akashi, gaze soft in a way no one else had ever seen, nodded with a responding tilt to his lips. "I'll hold it hostage until next time."

The kiss they leaned into was bittersweet. Neither wanted to move.

"Until next time." Kuroko said, and it was a promise. "Keep it safe."

"Until next time," Akashi echoed. "Take care, my love."

Kuroko smiled wider, and kissed him one more time. When Akashi opened his eyes, the blue-haired man was gone. Outside, the dark shape that was his lover's ship had also disappeared. It was as though the night had been a figment of his imagination.

But he still had Kuroko's heart. It was not enough, but it would suffice. Until next time.


End file.
